Broken
by bewize
Summary: Summary: This story takes place after the Cell Games. Gohan defeated Cell, but Goku did not survive the battle. Gohan struggles to deal with his feelings of guilt. [INCOMPLETE... BEING UPDATED]
1. Broken

Broken

A/N: Time line: After the Cell Games.

Rating: PG-13 (for content and potentially for language)

I make no promises about how soon I'll be able to update this. But, it shouldn't be too long.

Warnings: Angst filled

Summary: This story takes place after the Cell Games. Gohan defeated Cell, but Goku did not survive the battle. Gohan struggles to deal with his feelings of guilt.

Gohan leaned against the wall, ignoring his mother's rants. He crossed his arms over his chest, one foot cocked up against the wall, knee bent, and watched her grow redder in the face. She was really worked into a state this time.

He sighed and then turned to walk out of the room.

"Gohan!" Chi-chi snapped at him. "I am not done talking to you."

"Tough." He didn't even turn to look over his shoulder. "I'm done listening." He let the door slam behind him as he walked outside. He powered up and took off, even as she followed him into the yard. He flew away from her; away from his home; away from the house; away from the incessant nagging; away from the screaming baby that looked so much like Goku that it hurt to look at him.

Gohan was running away from his past. The only problem was that he could never escape himself.

Chi-chi watched him go, tears swimming in her eyes. She took a shaky breath. Her baby was out of control and there was nothing she could do to stop him. It had been nearly a year since the Cell games and Gohan was slipping farther and farther away from her.

At first, she had been so buried in her own grief and the arrival of the new baby, that she hadn't really noticed his changes. Now, when they were so glaringly obvious that she couldn't miss them, she didn't know what to do.

"Goku..." she choked out. "I'm losing our son..." She sat down at the table and buried her face in her arms and cried. "I don't know what to do. I don't know how to reach him. I wish you were here."

It had been the slip in Gohan's grades that had first really caught her attention. Even when he had taken off so much time to train, he had always been a wonderful student. Initially, she had chalked it up to grief and stress. She hadn't even pressed him about returning to his studies until his arm had healed. It had been a vicious break and she knew it was causing him more pain than he let on.

But it was the other differences, more subtle that she had missed at first. Gohan had changed... he was no longer the happy, carefree boy that he had been. He had gotten insolent, disrespectful, even rude. Then he had started staying out past his curfew. It was only a few minutes at first, then an hour, then several hours. Then the time came when he was gone for an entire day.

Chi-chi had been frantic. She had called everyone she knew who Gohan might have gone to stay with. When he had walked in the next morning, like nothing had happened, Chi-chi had gone ballistic. He had stood there, eyes wide, and promised not to do it again.

That promise had only lasted a few weeks, before he was out all night again. Gohan had point blankly refused to explain where he had been, or what he had been doing. Chi-chi had sent him to his room. He had gone, albeit, sullenly.

"He's just being a teenager." Bulma had scoffed when Chi-chi had confided her concerns. Bulma was so wrapped up in Trunks, who had grown into an active toddler, and Vegeta, who was almost the same as he had always been, except a tad softer around the edges, that she had really not paid any attention to the escalating problem. After all, Gohan had always been such an easy going child.

"He's not a teenager, Bulma. He's a twelve year old boy... and I think something is really wrong." Chi-chi had insisted.

Vegeta had offered to take Gohan somewhere and deal with him personally, but Chi-chi had quickly backed away from that offer. She wanted her son back to the way he had been, not back in a matchbox, and she was afraid that would be all that Vegeta would leave her.

"Forget it, Vegeta! Stay away from my son!"

His expression hadn't changed, but secretly, in a place he wouldn't even admit existed, Vegeta had been relieved. He wasn't positive that he could beat Gohan in a physical fight. The boy had proven to be far more powerful than Vegeta would have ever expected.

"Its Kakkarot fault." He had offered by way of explanation, then turned to leave.

"What's Goku's fault?" Chi-chi had demanded, defensive. Vegeta hadn't bothered to answer her.

Bulma had been too busy chasing down Trunks to pay attention to that exchange. Chi-chi watched the purple haired boy toddle around trying to catch a butterfly and again felt tears swim in her eyes. She held on to Goten a little tighter.

They grew up so fast. It was just the other day that Gohan had been a baby. Now he was so different. Chi-chi swallowed, determined to strengthen her resolve. If she couldn't find help from Bulma, she would ask her father.

The Ox-King had chuckled at Chi-chi's account of Gohan's disintegration. "Really, Chi-chi. He's just being a boy. He'll be fine as soon as he snaps out of it. It's only hormones."

Chi-chi desperately wanted to believe her father, but in her heart, she knew that Gohan's problem wasn't hormones. Her maternal instincts screamed at her to help her son, but she was truly at a loss. Gohan had changed so much that he didn't even seem like the same person to her.

"Goku..." she sobbed. "Help me... Gohan needs you... I need you."

There was no answer to her broken hearted pleas. Goku was dead and she had no choice but to sit and watch as her family shattered around her.


	2. Damaged

Ch. 2

Piccolo watched silently from his position above the Son home. The wind whipped around him and his cape swept back. He ignored both the wind and Chi-chi's sobs from below. All of his attention was fixated on the boy flying away as if pursued by the very demons of Hell.

"Goku..." he uttered the name, not with the desperation that Chi-chi's voice held, but with contempt and anger. "I warned you that you were sacrificing your son. I hope it was worth it." He didn't bother to follow Gohan. He knew where the boy was heading. It was the same place he spent more and more time of late.

Instead he hovered over the Son house, debating his options. A large part of him wanted to shake some sense into Gohan, but he knew before trying that it would be futile. Gohan was capable of being as stubborn as his father had been. Just as convinced that he was right, when it was plain to Piccolo that he could not be more wrong.

Piccolo remembered that day as vividly as if it had occurred the moment before. Cell had cost them so much. He had been so powerful, so confident of his own superiority, so cruel. Piccolo had seen his share of evil, done his share of evil, but that day Piccolo had stared evil in the face. He had tried to fight it... and lost.

He shook his head. Even a year later, Piccolo still had trouble thinking about the events that followed. Gohan's power... it had been almost terrifying. That a mere boy... a child... could be so much stronger than anyone else.

When it had come down to it, when the fate of the earth stood in the balance, Gohan had come through for them. He had blown Cell away with enough force that there wasn't even the smallest of cells for the beast to regenerate himself from.

Gohan hadn't let them down. But they had all failed Gohan.

Piccolo could still feel the rage that had gripped him when Goku had given up the battle. He had watched in complete disbelief as a man for whom he had held a tremendous respect, chose instead to send his own child into battle and watch from the sidelines.

"What are you doing?!" Piccolo had demanded, only to be ignored as Goku spoke quietly to Gohan. The blind faith and trust in Gohan's eyes had cut through Picollo's gut, but he tried to trust Goku. He hadn't really believed that Goku would do something to endanger his own son...

He'd been wrong.

"You're sacrificing your son to death, if you don't step in!" Picollo had raged at Goku, his own panic nearly unbearable. "Cell will kill him!"

The screams coming off the battle ground had been gut wrenching. Even Vegeta had stared at Goku in disbelief. Mirai Trunks had watched, grimly, as the boy whom he respected as a Master was tortured at the hands of the monster.

Goku simply stood and watched, his face impassive, unreadable. If it hadn't been for the dying look in his eyes, Piccolo would have intervened. Instead he turned, forcing himself to watch as Cell mauled the boy, taunting him, deliberately causing as much pain as possible.

Goku's plan was obvious to them all at this point. He believed that Gohan was stronger than any of them. Goku knew that he wouldn't be able to defeat Cell, so he sent in the only person whom he had faith could- his son. The only problem was that Gohan didn't believe it.

Finally, tired of toying with the boy, Cell had turned on watchers. He created smaller replicas of himself, sending out Cell Juniors, each as powerful as the monster himself. It was a set up to be a massacre. None of them, not even Goku or Vegeta had been winning those battles. Piccolo had been too busy trying to stay alive, and keep the others alive, to even pay attention to Gohan at that point.

Gohan, who hadn't been able to find the anger to defend his own life, tapped into a hidden strength to defend his friends. Screaming in rage, the very earth shook as he ascended, pushing beyond any bounds. Blue lightening crackled over his form, already glowing gold.

He dispatched the Cell Juniors with ease, driving them away from his father, away from his friends. When he next turned his attention to Cell, Piccolo had no doubt that Gohan would win the battle.

After a few minutes, it was obvious to them all that Cell was loosing. Even Cell had realized that he was losing and in desperation he had brought his power level to its full capacity. The tremors that race from his form shake the earth to its core, causing earthquakes on the opposite side of the globe, but Gohan had stared him down calmly.

Gohan was far superior to Cell in strength and in speed, but the very anger that had caused the transformation, the very source of the power that was defeating Cell, had proved too much for the boy to handle. He was so trapped within his own rage that he ignored the orders peppering him from the sides to end it and kill Cell.

Reveling in his own power, Gohan forced the monster to degenerate. It wasn't until even Goku was screaming at him to end the battle and kill Cell that Gohan had turned to obey, too late. Too late... it was too late.

Piccolo had watched in horror as Cell engorged himself with energy. His destruction would rip the planet to shreds, leaving no survivors. He had focused on Gohan, watching as reality sank in, watching as the boy he loved as his own had taken the weight of the world and his failure to save it on his shoulders. He had watched as Gohan dropped to his knees, screaming out to Goku that he was sorry.

And there had been nothing he could do. The same sense of helplessness washed over Piccolo now as he watched Gohan disappear into the distance. Finally, he turned. He flew in the opposite direction that Gohan had taken. He would not fail the boy again.


	3. Defeated

Ch. 3: Defeated

Gohan flew as fast and as furiously as he could manage. He flew until the wind chilled his skin and tore tears from his eyes. That way he had an excuse. It wasn't crying if it was the wind.

He didn't even have to think about where he was going. His body took him to the same place, almost against his will, that it took him everytime he went on a forbidden journey. The ground beneath him blurred into smears of trees and fields, familiar in their monotony.

Finally, he slowed, face and spirit numb and hovered several hundred feet over the place he hated most in the world. Gradually, he dropped until his feet touched the earth, and he sank to his knees. His hands dug into the earth and he slowly ripped up two chunks of grass.

Just being here caused him physical pain. Yet, here was where he came every time he had reached the breaking point. He craved the clarity that came with pain. He took several deep breaths, forcing the air in and out of his lungs, until his vision cleared.

He tore his eyes away from the ground and looked up at the granite statue that towered over him. Even though it was dark now, he could read the plaque underneath it. It was, after all, brightly lit. No expenses spared.

In Honor of Hercule Satan

Earth's Defender in its Darkest Hour

Victor of the Cell Games

The arena hadn't changed that much since the day of the Games themselves. It was less torn up, more finely manicured, gated now in honor of earth's victory. That way the tourists could come and gawk at the place where Hercule Satan had defeated the enemy.

Gohan ignored everything except the statue. The biggest difference, by far, was the smug shining visage of Hercule staring down at him.

Not that it mattered, much. Gohan didn't care that the world didn't know that he was the Gold Fighter, the true victor of the Cell Games. Gohan knew that he hadn't won anything that day. He hadn't won anything... he had lost everything.

Bitterly, he saluted the statue. Hercule's stone visage stared down at him over crossed arms, mute. His eyes accused Gohan of the failure that haunted him. Briefly, he considered blasting the statue into a thousand pieces, but finally he turned his back on it, shoulders slumped in defeat.

He could run from his mother; he could destroy the statue that shouldn't be here; but nothing he could do would make things right again. He could not bring his father back. Goku was gone...

Gohan took a shuddering breath. He had already cried all the tears that his body would ever make and he couldn't find more to shed. Instead he felt anger flow through him. Unlike the grief, the anger was solid and Gohan submitted to it willingly. Anger was useful, anger was comforting, anger was something that Gohan could use to keep himself separate from the world.

He wanted Goku to be there, so that he could rage at his father for having given up. He wanted to scream at him for having left.. He wanted his father in front of him so that he could try to convince them both that he hated him for being gone.

He wanted to feel the anger take over him...instead of feeling the constant aching emptiness gnawing at his gut.

He walked away from the statue, towards the side of the field. Reaching the place where the ground was still uneven, Gohan knelt again, putting his hands in the grooves on the ground. Grooves that hadn't filled in with the passing of time and mowing of the lawn. Grooves that he had made a year ago, kneeling in front of Cell in this same spot.

He closed his eyes and it was as if no time had ever passed. If he lived for eternity, he did not think this wound would close. Goku had popped up in front of him, standing between the ballooning Cell and his son.

"Tell your mother that I'm sorry I won't be here to help her. And I'm proud of you, son." Goku had spoken softly, his hand pressed to his forehead. Then, without another word, he had grabbed Cell and they had both vanished.

"COME BACK!"

Gohan didn't realize that the scream that echoed through his memory also rang through the park. Birds exploded out of the nearby trees, flying away from the noise, screeching at him for disturbing their rest.

"DADDY! COME BACK!"

The sob that wrenched its way out of Gohan's throat was raw and laced with pain. He leaned forward until his face was pressed against the dirt and he cried. He had thought that he had cried all of his tears, but he'd been wrong.

He wanted to hate his father, but he couldn't. The only target he could find for his anger was himself. Just as swiftly as it had started, the tears stopped. For the space of a heartbeat, Gohan stayed still, then he shoved away from the ground, pushing himself off of it.

He couldn't bring Goku back. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered. Instead of turning towards his home, Gohan flew towards the light of the city. After all, nothing mattered.


	4. Destroyed

Ch. 4: Destroyed

Thoughts raced through Piccolo's head as he flew towards Korrin's tower. It was strange to have another's memories in his mind, but one of the side effects of his merger with Kami was that he was aware of things only the god had known.

Of course not all of his memories belonged to the god. The memories that played through his mind over and over again were his. He saw Gohan, trying desperately to please him as they trained in the wilderness; Gohan pushing himself harder and faster, taking punishing blows that a man three times his size would have crumbled under; he remembered a five year old Gohan staring down stronger and more fierce fighters than he, determined not to back down because Piccolo expected him not to.

But it was other memories that motivated him now. He remembered watching Gohan shiver and cry in the wilderness; he could still see the pain on the small boy's face the first time Piccolo forced him to watch someone die in battle; the terror that froze him where he stood when he was on the brink of death for the first time. But mostly Piccolo remembered the moments that followed; the grief in Gohan's eyes when the blow intended to take Gohan's life fell instead on Piccolo and how Gohan had cried as Piccolo lay dying. How Gohan had blamed himself.

If it hadn't been for Gohan, Piccolo would have remained in the next dimension. He had trusted the boy to find a way to bring him back, and Gohan hadn't let him down.

Piccolo hadn't felt guilt over the fact that he had stripped Gohan's innocence away from him at such a young age. It had been necessary for Gohan's survival, for the earth's survival. But that didn't mean that he didn't still feel the responsibility for it. He had found salvation in Gohan's kind and generous nature. He had realized that there was room to love someone, even in his cold and lonely life.

He had taken Gohan's childhood from him, but it had been Cell that had taken Gohan's love for life. When Goku had died, Gohan had died. Only, Gohan was sentenced to a lifetime's worth of self-recrimination and anger. Goku had escaped relatively unscathed, as far as Piccolo was concerned. He had chosen not to come back. Instead he had spouted off some nonsense about how he had to accept his fate and remain in the next dimension. He had chosen to let his sons grow up without a father. As a result, he had not had to watch as Gohan had turned into himself and away from his friends and family. He had not had to see Gohan becoming hostile and angry with everyone, with no one, with himself.

Piccolo ached for the boy that Gohan had been. He missed the moments when Gohan had forgotten the horrors he had seen and simply acted like any other child. He had wanted so much to protect Gohan from the dangers that surrounded him.

Even after they had returned from Namek, Piccolo had watched over Gohan. He had vowed never to let the child face any danger alone. How could he have foreseen that the hardest battle Gohan would face wouldn't be for his life, but for his soul? If Gohan didn't pull out of the spiral into depression that he was currently in, Piccolo feared that the boy would loose himself.

The crux of it was, that Piccolo could see no way in which he could help. No way, but one.

He reached the tower and started flying up. The part of his mind that would always belong to Kami thought of the tower as home and Piccolo ruthlessly pushed it away. He was using Kami's memories, but that didn't mean that he was going to let the old man influence anything else. He could feel the part of himself that had been Kami fighting him and he struggled against the older Namek's influence.

Piccolo didn't care whether his actions were rational. He didn't care whether it was for the good of the earth or not. He cared about Gohan and the very threat of hell wasn't going to stop him from doing what he needed to do.

"Hell is what you are facing if you go through with this plan..." Kami's voice whispered in his mind.

"Then Hell is what I'll pay." Furiously, Piccolo screamed back at the silence. "I will not let him down again! I will not let him believe that he is alone!"

With a renewed blast of energy, Piccolo rocketed towards the heavens. When he finally reached the landing, he levitated himself down in front of a small building. His face set in a scowl, he crossed his arms and waited in the clearing.

When a short black man emerged, staring at him in disbelief, Piccolo smiled at him coldly. "Popo."

"What are you doing here?" Popo sounded shocked. Piccolo had made no secret of the fact that he wanted nothing to do with this place, despite the fact that he had merged with Kami.

"Dende." Piccolo snarled. "I need to speak with him." When Popo only continued to stare at him in shock, Piccolo stepped forward menacingly. "NOW!"

He put all the force of his years as Demon Piccolo behind him. He knew he looked intimidating and he knew that he could tear this entire landing apart if he needed too. That assurance must have shown, because sweat popped out on Popo's forehead and he practically tripped trying to back away from Piccolo.

"I'll find him..." Popo turned on his heel and ran back into the house. Kami's voice whispered that Piccolo had no cause to treat Popo in such a way and Piccolo ignored him. He set his jaw.

Kami hadn't been lying. Piccolo knew that he would likely find himself consigned to Hell for what he was about to do. But in his heart, he realized that he'd done enough evil in his life to deserve it anyway. If he was going to go to Hell, he was going to do it for the right reason.

He stood immobile and waited for Dende to emerge.


	5. Desolate

Ch. 5: Desolate

The early morning mists were melting away under the sun as Chi-chi paced. It had been a long night and Gohan had not returned. Honestly, she hadn't expected him to, but she had hoped. She did not know how to reach him or how to make him believe that Goku's death wasn't his fault.

Gohan had not spoken about his father's death even once since the day he had come home alone, to tell her that Goku had died. Mentally, she berated herself, but how was she to know at the time what had happened? How could she have known the lengths to which the battle had scarred her son? A senzu bean had healed his physical wounds, but it could not undo the damage that Gohan had sustained on the inside.

The news had shocked her. Even having known that both her husband and her son had been facing death on the battle field, even having lived through the earth quakes and the horrendous weather caused by the battle, Chi-chi had been convinced that somehow her family would come back to her whole.

Her memory of what followed the news was vague at best. Gohan had told her about Goku's decision to remain in the afterworld and Chi-chi had collapsed. She remembered her father holding her as she wept, but she couldn't remember what Gohan had done.

Furious, she berated herself. "Who held your son when you fell apart?"

Gohan had been there. Gohan had seen it! Gohan had lived it! And she hadn't been there for him when he needed it the most. It had taken her months even to ask what had happened…

The one thing she remembered most was saying over and over again, "Why didn't anyone help him? Why didn't anyone help him?"

She hadn't known what she was saying or who she was saying it to, but she knew now that Gohan had heard it. He had heard it and she was sure that it haunted him. She wasn't sure she could ever forgive herself for that.

She didn't blame Gohan for Goku's death. Goku was a grown man who had made his decisions as he saw fit. She didn't like them, but she couldn't change them.

She had never doubted that he loved Gohan with all his heart. In fact, she had often thought that having a son was the one aspect of married life that Goku had enjoyed most. He had loved being a father… she hated that he still didn't know he had another son.

Goten, who looked exactly like Goku, would grow up never knowing his father. As she paced around the kitchen, worrying over Gohan, she couldn't help but wonder if it was better or worse that way.

As mid-afternoon came and went with no sign of her oldest son, Chi-chi grew gradually more frantic. Where could he be? Where did he go when he vanished like this? How had he changed so much in such a short time?

She remembered him as a baby. He'd been a good natured child, never giving her any problems. If he'd been a little clingy as a toddler… well, a lot of children were. Secretly, she loved that. She had loved feeling needed.

It was a feeling that had come and gone too fast. Gohan had grown up so quickly. He hadn't needed her any longer. Or so she had thought. How could she have been so wrong about so many things?

She could still remember the days before the Cell Games. Goku had asked her to take Gohan with him to train and she had said yes. She wasn't blind to her son's need to help or to Goku's inability not to help. So she had said yes, believing that the safest place Gohan could ever be was with his father. Then, suddenly, Goku and shown up unexpectedly, bringing Gohan with him. They were done training, he had said. The important thing was to spend some time together. He had missed her. Had that just been so that she would have pleasant memories to dwell on if they had lost?

Gohan had been so keyed up. He hadn't even looked like she'd remembered. His boyish body had been replaced with the beginnings of a man's body. He had looked so much like Goku that she'd been shocked. He had always resembled him in form, but his expressions… they were determined, confident. They weren't the expressions of a child any longer. Her baby had grown up, but she hadn't lost him then. Not truly. Not the way she was losing him now.

Both of them had been so much stronger when they'd come back to her. It was almost as if they'd been gone far longer than had actually passed. Gohan had become a SuperSaiyan and she had shared his joy at that accomplishment, even as she had hidden her fear that her son would be just like his father. She wanted more for him than that. She wanted him to have a lifetime of fishing and camping trips first with his father, and then later, with his own children. She wanted for him to be happy.

Finally, she reached a decision and took the phone off the wall. If Gohan wanted to stay hidden from her, he'd be able to. She needed someone who could follow his Ki signature and her options were limited. She had already dismissed Vegeta's offer of aid and she had no way of contacting Piccolo. Her preferred choice was Krillin.

Krillin had been Goku's best friend during life. He had proven repeatedly that he would care for Gohan when Goku had been unable to do so. Waiting impatiently for someone to answer the line, Chi-chi prayed that Krillin might be able to get through to her son.

Someone was going to have to…

When Krillin arrived at the house, Chi-chi was nearly in tears. The former monk watched her warily. In all the years he'd known Chi-chi, he wasn't sure he'd ever seen her cry. He'd seen her scream plenty of times. He'd seen her do her best to whack Goku over the head more than once. He'd even dodged the occasional swipe himself. But crying and Chi-chi just didn't really fit in the same sentence.

After a few minutes, Krillin shared her concern. The whole story came flowing out of Chi-chi in bits and pieces, but the part that Krillin focused on the most was that Gohan was missing. The tales of his irrational and angry behavior only served to heighten his concern.

"I'll go look for him, Chi-chi. Don't worry, because I'm sure he's fine. The kid can take care of himself." Even as he tried to be reassuring, Chi-chi fixed him with a severe glare.

"No, he's not fine, Krillin. That's the problem." She met his eyes, with tears glistening in her own. "You have to understand that, Krillin. He's not fine. He's anything but fine."

Chi-chi stood up, still clutching Goten to her. "If he were fine, he wouldn't be staying out all night. If he were fine, he wouldn't have run away. If he were fine…" Her voice broke and she looked at Krillin pleadingly.

"I don't know what to do. Gohan has always looked up to you. He trusts you. Please… find him. Talk to him. Try to make him understand that it isn't his fault."

Krillin nodded, but secretly he wasn't sure he could. "Chi-chi… you have to know that Gohan is stronger than I am. If he doesn't want to listen to me… I can't make him."

"I know." Her voice was little more than a whisper. "But, try, please. Just try."

Krillin flew away from the Son household. He couldn't feel Gohan's Ki and he knew that the boy must have muted it for that reason. There was nothing on earth strong enough to be a threat to Gohan… except, of course, himself.

He shook his head, uncertain where to go, and finally settled on flying towards the Cell Games battlefield. Unlike Gohan, he had not returned there since the day of the battle itself. The memories had proven too painful and he had no desire to relive them.

He desperately wanted to remain loyal to Goku's memory and he had tried to understand why his best friend hadn't returned to earth when offered the chance, but he couldn't. Of course, he had never really understood Goku. Or even Gohan for that matter.

For all that he had lived his life as a martial artist, for him if was a lifestyle. For the Saiyans, it was life itself. He could still remember how much Gohan had wanted to be like his father. How hard he had trained on earth. How he had given it his all on Namek.

He wasn't sure he would ever understand Goku's choice, but what he did understand was the gaping hole that Goku's death had left. When Goku had materialized in front of Cell, Krillin knew what that had meant. He had grasped the import of that moment quicker than anyone, except possibly Vegeta. Goku was going to sacrifice himself to save them all.

He had done it with a smile on his face, vanishing in an instant. All that had remained behind was a young boy with a broken heart, a shattered landscape, and the grief of his friends and family.


	6. Shattered

Ch. 6: Shattered

Gohan sat on the bench in the park and stared at nothing. Hands jammed into his pockets, he had his legs stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankles. He remained motionless, ignoring the people that walked around him. He had stayed out all night… again. He knew he had worried his mother… again.

Bitterly, he wondered if she would care if she really knew the truth. Would she still love him if she knew that he was responsible for Goku's death? When he had felt his father's Ki vanish, the world had dimmed. The feeling that had swept him at that moment left him shattered.

Krillin had been the first to reach him and Gohan had felt himself lifted against the monk's sturdy chest. He hadn't been able to breathe… He still didn't know what words his longtime friend had murmured to him, but the tone had been reassuring, comforting, loving. All things that Gohan had known he was no longer worthy of.

What kind of son was he? He had waited too long, and his father had been the one to pay the price. It wasn't fair. He had been able to feel the silent judging stares of his friends. How ashamed of him they must have been.

He hadn't been able to meet their eyes when Krillin had helped him to his feet. Piccolo, his Sensei, his teacher, his friend… the Namek had said nothing to him. Vegeta's face had been unreadable, but Trunks had looked stunned.

He had failed him. He had failed them all. He had failed his father… and himself. He had been in shock, his mind wasn't working, his body was numb. Standing shakily, he felt Krillin leave his side. The monk had rushed to the side of the Android 18, helping her to her feet.

Gohan had ignored them, even as he ignored Vegeta's strident voice arguing that 18 should be destroyed. He reveled in the numbness that deadened his limbs. Maybe if it lasted long enough, it would numb his heart. Lifting his head to the sky, he'd whispered, "Daddy…" But there was no answer. There never would be an answer again.

Standing there, ignoring those around him, content to be ignored by them, he hadn't been able to move when the wind had picked up. He hadn't been able to react, even when he felt the Ki presence appear above him… He hadn't been able to cry out a warning and again he hadn't been the one to pay the price for his failure.

The energy beam had pierced Trunks through the chest. Gohan heard himself screaming as the man fell, blood flowing from his chest. The impact when Trunks' body hit the ground had broken Gohan's immobility. But it had been too late again. One more friend dead, because Gohan hadn't been able to act fast enough.

Whirling, Gohan had seen Cell floating in midair. The monster had sneered at them all, but his eyes had sought Gohan's. The smug look on the monster's face had cut across Gohan like a whip. The monster lived… but Goku didn't.

"My aim is as good as ever..." Evil laughter echoed around the clearing, where all the friends had stood. "It's so good to be back." His eyes mocked Gohan, mocked them all, their loss and pain.

Behind him, he felt Trunks' Ki fade, and he screamed, "Look what you did to Trunks! You MONSTER!"

Moving decisively, Gohan stood up from the bench, shaking his head violently. Why could he never rid himself of these images?

It didn't matter what everyone told him. He had been there. He knew he was to blame. Slipping into the growing stream of people, Gohan had walked aimlessly through the city. Passing stores, restaurants, offices, schools…he didn't care where he'd end up, so he didn't care where he was going.

After a while, the noise had started to penetrate his shell of isolation. He looked up suddenly when he heard a child's laughter. Across the street in a playground, he watched a small boy on the swings.

"Faster, daddy, faster!" He cried out as a man pushed him higher on the swing. For a heartbeat, Gohan watched silently, then he powered up and took off, not caring that people were staring after him. He flew straight up, ever higher. He didn't stop until the oxygen thinned and he found it hard to breath. Gasping, he stopped and hovered.

Silence… from this high, there was no noise. No painful laughter to act as a reminder of what he didn't have.

Stretching his arms out to the side, Gohan leaned backward and released his energy. With darkness creeping in on his vision, he let go of the last tendril of strength. Free falling through the thousands of feet of emptiness beneath him, he wondered if the fall would kill him. He doubted it.

With the wind rushing past him, whipping his hair against his face, Gohan ignored the familiar Ki that was rushing towards him. He was only mildly surprised to feel strong arms surround him. His plummet towards the ground slowed and he heard Krillin's familiar voice. "I've got you, Little Buddy. It's going to be okay."

"No, Krillin…" Gohan's voice sounded strangled, even to him. "I don't think it's going to be…"

"Just relax, kiddo." Krillin soothed him. "I'll take you home. Your mother is worried sick."

At the mention of his home and his mother, Gohan jerked, almost succeeding in breaking away. "NO!"

"Why not, Gohan?" Krillin demanded, confused.

"I can't go back there… I can't face her anymore." Gohan turned in the monk's arms until they were facing each other. "Please…"

"Okay, Gohan. It's okay." Without any other options, Krillin made a decision. "I'll take you to Master Roshi's." Feeling the boy relax in his arms, Krillin sighed. He'd just have to call Chi-chi and stall for some time. She had been right. Something was wrong with Gohan and he couldn't ignore that. But he couldn't make the kid even more miserable than he obviously was already.

Gohan buried his head against Krillin's chest, not offering any of his own energy to aid in their flight. "Dad was wrong to be proud of me…" He muttered, exhausted.

"Hey!" Krillin's voice was harsh and he felt Gohan cringe slightly. Softening his tone, he continued, "Your father was proud of you and he was right to be proud of you. You're everything a father could want in a son."

"Then why didn't he stay?" Gohan's voice was barely a whisper and Krillin blinked tears out of his eyes.

"I don't know, Gohan. But, I know he loved you very much. And I know he was proud of you."

For a few minutes, the flew in silence, then Gohan choked. A sob shook his body and Krillin's arms tightened around him reflexively. "It should have been me, Krillin."

"No." The monk's tone was decisive. "No one would have wanted it that way, least of all Goku. You saved us, Gohan. I told you that day, without you, we all would be history."

For the first time since he was five years old and in the wilderness with Piccolo, Gohan cried because he was alone. "I want my Daddy…"

"We all do, kiddo." Krillin ignored the tears that blew away from his own face. He cradled Gohan to him and flew towards Roshi's island. "We all do."


	7. Breathless

Ch. 7: Breathless

Dende stared at Piccolo in disbelief. "You can't be serious. You can't just do this!" He moved to block the older Namek from entering the dwelling behind him.

"I can and will," Piccolo growled at him.

Dende crossed his arms and glared back at him. "No, you can't! If you'd listen to the voice of Kami inside you, you'd know that!"

From where he stood, Popo winced as Dende stood up to the furious Piccolo, but a small part of him admired the young Namek. He'd changed so much since taking over the position of Earth's Guardian. He'd matured faster than could have been expected and he took his duties very seriously. He was proud that the youngster was holding his ground.

Piccolo shook his head. "Do you think you can stop me?"

After a moment, Dende's shoulder's slumped. "No, I can't stop you. Not physically. You're far stronger than I am and you know it." The spark in his eyes flared again, "But that doesn't mean that I'm going to move out of your way, either."

Gaping at him now, Piccolo laughed. "I've got to hand it to you, kid. You've got guts, but it's not going to stop me." Smile vanishing, he moved in front of the Guardian so fast that Popo could barely see him go. Hauling Dende up by the front of his robe, Piccolo spoke softly directly into his face.

"This is for Gohan. If I have to, I will tear this place apart."

"How is this going to help Gohan?" Dende screamed back at him, feet still dangling. "You getting yourself killed is not going to help him." His voice cracked and he was ashamed to feel tears welling up in his eyes. Still, he refused to back down until he could make the older Namek listen to reason. Somewhere behind the eyes of Piccolo, he could feel Kami looking out… and Naill.

"I can't help Gohan." The rage that underlay that simple statement left Dende breathless and he reached up to grip the wrist of the hand that was so effortlessly holding him up.

"What do you mean? Gohan loves you. He'd do anything for you!" Dende whispered. "How can you turn your back on him now?"

Shocked, Piccolo dropped him. The unexpected fall took Dende by surprise and he sprawled backwards. Popo immediately moved to come to him, but he held up a hand in warning. Piccolo was staring at him with his mouth slightly open as he struggled to find words to explain.

"Gohan is so far lost in himself, that he doesn't hear the voices of his friends anymore." Piccolo turned away, to keep the despair in eyes hidden, but the sharp eyes of Dende picked it up. "He can't hear anything, won't hear anything."

"Surely it's not that bad…" Dende whispered, still laying where he'd been dropped. "Gohan is strong. He's the strongest person I've met." The Namekian youth could not imagine his young friend in the state that Piccolo described, but in his heart he knew that Piccolo would never lie to him about Gohan.

"If I don't do this," Piccolo didn't turn to look at him, "then we will lose him. It's a risk I'm going to take."

Swallowing hard, Dende tried to force his brain to work, but he couldn't seem to catch his breath. He'd only been on Earth for a few days when the Cell Games had taken place. Goku had come to him on New Namek and asked him to come to Earth. He'd been so excited to see his friends again that he'd agreed with no regrets. Of all the Nameks, he alone knew how much he owed these Earth Saiyans, how much they all did. They had saved his people and he would repay them however he could. But part of it had gone deeper than that, deeper and yet ever so much more shallow.

Gohan had been his friend. The demi-Saiyan had been only a child when they'd first met, but he was still older than Dende. It was with no small amount of hero worship that Dende had watched Gohan stand up to Frieza, to Vegeta, to any danger that appeared. Their time on Earth had served to strengthen their friendship and Dende had left him with sadness and regret.

During the months that Dende had spent with Gohan on Earth, he had seen first hand how much Goku's absence had affected him. Only the knowledge that Goku was alive somewhere, and would come home again, had kept the cheerful spark in the boy's eyes. He and Gohan had spent long hours together, both talking about their fathers. Dende still missed his own father, Guru, but it had been the old Namek's time and there had been no regrets when the Eldest Namek had finally passed to the Next World.

He had watched in horror from his position at Kami's Tower as the Cell Battle had unfolded below. When Goku had vanished, Dende had been torn. He was later ashamed of the fact that his first reaction had been relief. Goku and Cell had both been obliterated by the blast of energy that had ripped from the clone's body, but the Earth had been saved.

From where he had knelt, watching the battle unfold, Dende had felt his own heart break when he heard Gohan's scream. Tears streaming down his own face, Dende's relief had been overtaken by grief and sympathy. Then horror struck, he had felt Cell's Ki again. Eyes glued to the drama unfolding beneath him, he had been sick when Trunks had been killed.

Crawling away from the edge of the platform from where he watched, he had considered the likelihood that Cell couldn't be killed. That instead the Earth that he had sworn to protect would instead be ripped apart like so much garbage by the next blast that the monster created. He had been afraid then that he would lose a second home world in his young life.

But that hadn't been. The Earth remained and he knew that the only reason that was true was because of Gohan. He stood slowly and faced Piccolo. The elder stared back at him, calmly. After a moment's hesitation, Dende stepped away and gestured weakly towards the dwelling.

"Don't fail him, Piccolo."

Surprised by the admonition, Piccolo nodded at him. He walked inside without any further delay, Kami's memories guiding him on his way. This had to work. It had to because he didn't have any other ideas.

Unlike Dende, Piccolo hadn't been able to look away from the battlefield that day. When Trunk's body had hit the ground, he'd heard the death rattle in the young man's throat. He had seen the blood fly from his mouth and he had known that it was over. They would all die that day. Determined to sell his life as dearly as he could, he had spun to face Cell. But he not expected what happened next.

Vegeta, screaming in rage, had launched himself at Cell with a fury that was breathtaking to behold. Even Gohan had fallen back, unable to compete with the wrath of the Last of the Saiyan Princes. Caught of guard, Cell had plummeted into the rocks, sending them flying.

"You killed my son, you bastard!" Vegeta had screamed as he gathered enough energy in his hands to devastate a small city. Throwing himself out of the way, Piccolo had wondered briefly at the unexpected display of emotion. Vegeta had never so much as acknowledged Trunks was his son before that moment.

When the smoke had cleared, Piccolo looked around desperately for Gohan. Above him the battle raged as Vegeta took his vengeance on Cell, but he had ignored it. Finally, he had spotted the boy, still glowing gold and his heart had stopped beating. He had seen Gohan afraid, desperate, terrified… but he had never seen hatred on the boy's face before. It had radiated off of Gohan's frame in almost tangible waves.

Gohan was not crying any more. Instead he was waiting. The aura of energy around him intensified. Goku had once attempted to explain how he had become a SuperSaiyan.

"It's not about strength, Piccolo. It's about purity of emotion."

Piccolo stared across the gulf at the only person he had ever loved in his life and been afraid. It was not the fear that Gohan would die that rooted him immobile to the ground. It was the fear that the pure hatred in his eyes wouldn't be released when Gohan took his revenge. Hatred like that was a cancer. If he couldn't exorcise it, it would eat him alive.

Hatred was an emotion that Piccolo knew intimately, but he wasn't willing to watch it consume Gohan from the inside. He knew that no matter how much he told Gohan that it wasn't his fault, the boy wouldn't believe him. After Cell's death, with no place left to go, Gohan had turned his hatred towards himself. He believed that he was responsible for Goku's death and he hated himself because of it.

There was only one person that Piccolo knew could break through that shell of hatred and convince the boy inside that he was not a monster. Unfortunately, that person was dead. Still, Piccolo mused as he found the secret entrance to the Next World, he wasn't about to let that stop him.


	8. Helpless

Ch. 8: Helpless

Krillin walked into the living room in time to see Master Roshi hang up the phone. "Well? Did you get her?"

"Yeah." The turtle hermit sounded tired. "She agreed to let Gohan stay here for a few days. But," he fixed Krillin with a hard stare, "she wants you to call her."

"Why me? Didn't she believe you?" Krillin felt the butterflies start churning his stomach again.

"Of course she believed me." Roshi snorted. "I wouldn't lie to her about Gohan and she knows that. But I think she wants to see if you have any ideas."

Dropping on the sofa, Krillin stared at his hands. "I don't know, Master," he finally admitted. "I've never seen Gohan like this before. Do you know where I found him?"

The old hermit shook his head and Krillin continued, "Falling. I felt his Ki over South City and then he just let go. It was sheer luck that I even found him before he hit the ground."

"The fall wouldn't have killed him," Roshi dismissed that with a wave of his hand, but his voice sounded unsure. "What was he doing?"

"He said he just needed to fall," Krillin rubbed his face, tension evident in the way he held himself. "What am I supposed to say to that?"

"I don't know." Roshi sat next to him on the sofa. "Did he say anything else?"

"Just that…" Krillin's voice choked. "He misses Goku," he finished in a whisper. His shoulders shook and he leaned over and buried his face in his hands. "How can I explain to him why his father left when it's something even I don't understand?"

"Goku had his reasons." Rosh responded sternly. "He always had his reasons. He knew that if he stayed here no one would ever be safe."

"His son isn't safe now!" Krillin stood up, suddenly angry. "He left Gohan and Chi-chi… and little Goten… all of us." Going from a shout to a whisper, Krillin raged against his friend's death. "What am I supposed to do? I swore to him once that I'd look after his family, but I don't know what to do."

Roshi shook his head. "We'll figure it out, Krillin. Gohan is a smart kid and he's got his father's heart. He'll pull through."

"Well, he's sleeping now." Krillin muttered, sitting back down. "I helped him into bed and I think he was asleep before his head touched the pillow. Poor kid must be exhausted."

"He's out of control," Roshi stated firmly. "Chi-chi said that he's been staying out all night, that he's not eating, that he doesn't listen to her. What he needs is someone to make him see reason."

"He's in pain!" Krillin defended Gohan. "He's only out of control because he doesn't know how else to deal with his emotions. What he needs…"

"Is a trip to the woodshed." Roshi cut him off. "Goku wouldn't have tolerated this sort of behavior, neither should we."

"Well, Goku isn't here, is he?" Krillin snapped. "And if you want to go upstairs and "take Gohan to the woodshed," you be my guest." He glared at his old master. "If you think you can…" The challenge hung in the air and Roshi finally nodded.

"I can't do it. He's too strong."

"He wouldn't listen to you anyway," Krillin muttered. Truthfully, although part of him agreed that Gohan's behavior needed to be curbed, he couldn't handle the idea of causing Gohan pain of any sort at the moment. "He's suffered so much. I hate to think of him being in any more pain."

Earlier, when he had helped Gohan strip out of his shirt, he'd been surprised at the scars running across his left arm. He'd turned his face quickly, but Gohan had seen his lingering gaze. "The senzu bean healed the bones, but some of the scars are still there."

"Never mind." Krillin had eased the covers over him and Gohan had shut his eyes. "Don't worry about those."

Seeing the scars had jolted his memory back to the Cell Games and Krillin had spent many hours trying to forget what had happened. After Vegeta had attacked Cell, it had quickly become apparent that even the Prince of Saiyans at his most angry wasn't strong enough to defeat the creature. Cell had smashed Vegeta to the ground. Screaming, the Android had sent a blast of energy towards the wounded Prince that was guaranteed to kill him.

Through the blinding light, Krillin had been able to make out a shape that appeared just before the blast struck home. Instead of grinding into the ground, the energy had shattered, flying across the grounds and knocking the monk off his feet. When he'd climbed to his knees, he could see Gohan standing between the semi-conscious Vegeta and the outraged Cell.

The boy had somehow managed to block Cell's blast, at the cost of his arm. His left arm hung useless at his side. Even from the distance, Krillin had felt his stomach turn with the fear that Gohan might never regain the use of it. Even worse, he now faced Cell with only one good fighting arm.

"I tire of this." Cell spat, reptilian eyes focused on Gohan. "I'm going to kill you, foolish boy." His eyes swept around the gathered onlookers, the remaining Z force fighters, the people gathered in the distance not fully understanding the scope of the moment. "And since you fought so hard to save this pathetic planet, I'll send it with you."

"I'm not afraid to die." Gohan answered, pain making his voice tight, but it had carried clearly to where Krillin still knelt. "Death only means that I'll be with my father again."

"Give him my best wishes." Cell floated into the air, gathering energy as he went higher. Gohan knelt beside Vegeta, then moved away from the fallen Prince to stand in the middle of the clearing, while Krillin and the rest of the fighters watched helplessly. They couldn't help. In this battle, they would only get in the way. Impotently, Krillin had stared at the ground.

Was this to the be the way it ended? Was he going to have to watch Goku's son be murdered in front of him? With the world crashing around him, he looked up to see 18 watching him, her face unreadable, but sorrow in her eyes. She turned away from him to watch Gohan, and he followed her gaze. He may not be able to stop Cell, but he would give honor to Gohan's sacrifice as the boy stared down death and waited.

"Why am I always helpless when it comes to Goku's son?" Krillin asked softly, surprising Roshi. "I couldn't help against Frieza, I couldn't help against Cell. I can't help him now."

The only answer he got was the soft ticking of the clock on the wall.

When Gohan woke up, he couldn't remember where he was. Looking around cautiously, he was surprised to see Krillin sitting in a chair next to him. The monk was dozing with his chin tucked against his chest and his arms crossed over his body.

Sitting up gingerly, Gohan recognized Kame House and relaxed. He reached out and found his gi folded at the bottom of his bed. Standing up, he dressed as quietly as he could. Outside the window, evening fell and the shadows lengthened. He couldn't handle the thought of talking to anyone and sat down again to tug his boots on. As soon as he was dressed, he intended to fly out of the window and leave.

"Where are you going to go?" The voice made him start up and he turned to glare at Krillin.

"I thought you were asleep!"

Brown eyes searched his own. "I asked you a question, Gohan."

Surprised at the tone the monk was using, Gohan shrugged. "It doesn't matter." He sat back down and pulled his other boot on. "Away from here."

"But not home?"

"I already told you," Gohan's voice was cold. "I'm not going back there again."

Krillin frowned at him. "You can't keep running away, Gohan. Eventually, you're going to have to face what scares you."

"I'm not scared, Krillin." Gohan stood up again. "I'm stronger than anyone else, anything else. What is there to scare me?"

"You tell me, Little Buddy." Krillin asked softly. "You're the one running away again."

"Just leave me alone, Krillin." Gohan spat at him. "I didn't ask you to save me earlier. I don't need you. I don't need anybody."

"I can't do that, Gohan." Krillin moved to stand between Gohan and the open window, blocking his intended escape. "I promised Goku that I'd watch after you and I'm going to."

"How do plan to do that?" The boy's mouth twisted into a sneer and his eyes mocked the older man. "I do what I want to, when I want to. I like it that way."

"You may be strong, Gohan," Krillin answered. "But you're only a boy. You don't know the mistakes that you're making. You have to finish school, you can't keep sneaking out at night, you need to listen to the people who love you." The former monk spoke rapidly, trying to make Gohan listen to reason.

"Your mother, me, Master Roshi, Piccolo… we hate to see you do this to yourself."

His pleas fell on deaf ears as Gohan regarded him icily. "Do what to myself?"

"Blame yourself for Goku's death." Krillin answered softly.

Blinking rapidly, Gohan stared at him, his breathing erratic. "You don't know what you're talking about," he finally gasped, moving towards the door.

"I'm not going to let you do this anymore!" Krillin grabbed Gohan's shoulder, completely unprepared for what happened next.

"You can't stop me!" Gohan screamed, turning back to his father's best friend and sending him flying into the wall. Krillin hit the wall hard enough that he cracked the plaster and he fell to the ground. Looking up at Gohan, he saw the stunned misery on the boy's face for a split second before Gohan flew out the window. Judging the boy's Ki, Krillin knew that he wouldn't be able to catch him and easing off the floor he went to watch the vapor trail as Gohan vanished over the horizon.

"It's okay, Little Buddy. I forgive you. You can't make me hate you, no matter how much you think you deserve it." Holding his bruised ribs where Gohan had hit him, Krillin started wracking his brain. He needed Piccolo. The Namek was the only person that Krillin thought might be able to get through to Gohan. He was the only one besides Vegeta who could withstand even a fraction of Gohan's strength.

"It's not his fault," Krillin muttered going downstairs to get Roshi to look at his ribs. "He's only a boy."


	9. Hopeless

Ch. 9: Hopeless

Yemma blinked when he saw movement on his desk. Something was standing beside his phone. Leaning down, he started when he saw someone standing there.

"Who are you?" He boomed, standing up and towering over the tiny figure on his desk.

Piccolo started. It had been a long time since he'd met the god and he'd forgotten just how much bigger he was than most people Glancing around he realized that he had come up through a drawer in the god's desk and now was standing next to a massive stack of paperwork. He'd never realized that being the guardian of the afterlife was such a paper intensive job.

Turning back to the stunned god, he opened his mouth. Instead of the retort that Piccolo had prepared, he heard Kami's voice emerge. "Don't you recognize me, old friend?"

Blinking, Yemma leaned down again until his face was only a few feet over Piccolo. "Kami?"

"It's me, King Yemma. Although my body has changed." Kami sounded rather pleased with himself and Piccolo struggled to regain control of his body.

"Be careful, Piccolo," Kami whispered in his mind. "Yemma isn't going to like this plan."

Yemma was blinking rapidly, trying to remember just where he'd seen this particular person before. Finally, he straightened up, "Piccolo?"

"Surprised?" Piccolo crossed his arms and looked up at the god mildly.

"Somewhat. I hadn't heard of a catastrophe on Earth that would send you to me." Yemma sat back down and reached for some papers. "How long until your friends wish you back?"

For a moment, Piccolo had no idea what Yemma was talking about, then he laughed. "I'm not dead, King Yemma."

Inside of him, he could feel Kami tense. Very slowly, Yemma put down his pen and then he growled. "What are you doing here if you're not dead?"

Brows drawn together, Piccolo studied him for a second. "I came up the secret way from Earth's Guardian Tower."

Slamming both fists down on either side of Piccolo, Yemma stood and bellowed, "That passage is to be used only by the Guardian himself! And only in dire circumstances!"

"I didn't come visit for my own amusement!" Piccolo snapped back, completely unintimidated by the anger of the giant god.

"You dare speak to me in such insolent tones!" Yemma demanded, furiously. "You play games with your soul, Piccolo. Do not assume merely because you have joined with Kami that you're place in the afterlife is assured."

"I don't care about my place in the afterlife!" Piccolo shouted, his calm façade vanishing in an instant.

"Then give me one good reason why I shouldn't banish you to hell right now!" The god raged.

Kami's voice was pleading with Piccolo to apologize and the Namek recognized the even fainter voice inside him of Naill, but he couldn't stop himself from giving the brutal honest answer.

"There is nothing to stop you." Piccolo admitted. "My life is filled with crimes for which I fully expect to pay." He looked up and the frankness in his gaze surprised the god.

"What is it that you would ask of me?" Yemma sat back down. His normal attention span for mortals, or the recently deceased was short. Every excuse imaginable had been offered as a reasonable explanation for a past transgression, bordering from the truth, to the absurd. Generally, he paid them no never mind, but a frank admission like the one Piccolo had made was the most rare answer of all. It had always intrigued him and this time was no different.

"My life is worth very little to me." Piccolo spoke plainly. "It's only value lies in what protection I can offer to Son Gohan."

"Goku's son?" Yemma nodded, familiar with the deceased Saiyan warrior.

"Yes." Piccolo nodded. "But right now, I can't help him. And the boy needs help. So I'm here to offer you a trade."

"A trade?" The god's eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

"Yes." Piccolo took a deep breath. "My life for Goku's."

In the silence that followed, Yemma pondered Piccolo intently. "You'd offer me your life, even knowing that Son Goku is a valued soul, but you would spend eternity in hell?"

Without any hesitation, Piccolo nodded. "Yes. Although I would ask for a moment with Goku first, to explain to him what has happened."

Yemma stood up. "Fair enough. Stay here." He exited the giant room and Piccolo remained where he was standing. His legs didn't waiver and his expression never changed. He'd made up his mind and he was doing what had to be done. He owed this much to Gohan.

Yemma stepped out of the room and leaned against the wall to think. There were several things that he could sense just below the surface of what Piccolo was telling him. He knew that he'd get no more from the Namek than had already been offered, and despite his irritation, he couldn't help but feel a grudging respect.

For a planet where the natural life forms were relatively weak, Earth certainly turned up some of the most dedicated and hard core fighters. Scratching his beard, Yemma debated his options. Piccolo wouldn't be here if Gohan wasn't in a desperate straight.

Although Yemma was not in charge of Earth himself, he had heard of the Cell Games. After all, it was rare in the North Sector of the universe for there to be a legitimate threat of a planet's annihilation. In fact, Goku had been the subject of many hours of heated discussion when he'd gone to Namek and brought back a new Guardian, without so much as a by your leave from the higher gods. Although, Yemma thought it was a brilliant move. Dende had been an excellent choice as well. Stronger than Kami had been, he'd created a dragon capable of granting three wishes, as well as capable of resurrecting a life more than once.

More than anything, though, Yemma was intimately aware of Goku's self-sacrifice. He'd brought Cell to King Kai's planet before the creature had been able to destroy the Earth, but at the cost of his own life, King Kai's life, and King Kai's planet. It had been small, but the Northern Kai had been furious at the loss of his home. It had taken him surprisingly little time to forgive the Saiyan for it, which had amused all those who knew him well.

Dragging his thoughts back to the Namek waiting in his office, Yemma went in search of his file. Finding it in a cabinet marked: FREQUENT USAGE, Yemma flipped idly through the pages. He remembered the Namek from the first time he'd entered his office. There had been orders from King Kai that all of the Z Force members at that time were to be sent directly to him. Curiosity had led the lower god to pull the files of all the members. Piccolo hadn't been lying when he'd said that he had enough crime in his life to make hell a forgone conclusion, but the simplicity with which the Namek faced his eternal damnation forced Yemma to reconsider. Had he truly learned? The fact that Kami had joined willing with him also bore further investigation.

Taking Piccolo's file into the cafeteria with him, Yemma ordered lunch and sat down to peruse its contents. An hour later, his lunch forgotten, Yemma stood up. He reached up to brush away an unexpected tear that blurred his vision.

No wonder the Namek was willing to give up his soul to save the boy. It was only because of the boy, the Saiyan child Gohan, that Piccolo had even rediscovered his soul. "He saved you, Piccolo. Now you want to save him." Yemma walked back towards his office, and unconsciously repeated his words to Piccolo earlier. "Fair enough."


	10. Silence

Ch. 10: Silence

Gohan blinked his eyes and found himself staring at the base of Hercule's statue.

In Honor of Hercule Satan

Earth's Defender in its Darkest Hour

Victor of the Cell Games

He didn't remember coming back to the arena. After he'd hit Krillin, he'd flown away from Rohsi's island without any idea where he was going. The monk's voice floated back through Gohan's consciousness.

"You can't keep running away, Gohan. Eventually, you're going to have to face what scares you."

He wasn't running away! He wasn't. What could he be running from? He had won! He was the strongest in the world! He had beaten Cell when Vegeta couldn't! When Piccolo couldn't! When his own father couldn't! They hadn't been strong enough!

That long ago awful day when Gohan had knelt beside Vegeta he'd been vaguely aware that his left arm was shattered. The pain that screamed through his nerves had dimmed his vision, but he had still managed to focus his gaze on the older man's face. The Saiyan Prince, battered and bloody, had pried his eyes open long enough to meet Gohan's gaze. "I'm sorry…" he whispered, brokenly.

Those words were the last words Gohan had ever expected to hear from the arrogant Prince's mouth and in some ways that was the last straw. First the monster had attacked his friends, then he had killed his father. Whether Vegeta was apologizing for interfering minutes ago, or for interfering and allowing Cell to ascend, Gohan didn't know. Nor did he care. Looking into Vegeta's eyes, Gohan's rage had overwhelmed him. He hated Cell. He hated.

His hatred was mirrored in Vegeta's eyes and for the first time, the two had understood each other. The moment, although brief, stretched. The Prince of Saiyans and a mere demi-Saiyan, son of a third class warrior banished from his home world, understood each other perfectly for this one moment in time. All differences aside, they both lived and breathed for one purpose… revenge.

The pain dulled as he forced himself back on his feet. Leaving Vegeta's side, he had turned and stalked towards Cell. He would end this. One way or the other, he would end this.

Cell sneered at him, taunting him with the promise of death and Gohan had felt his lips curl into a smile. If death was the worst the monster could offer, then he had nothing left to be afraid of.

"Nothing to be afraid of…" Gohan whispered. "Nothing but me. Why does no one see it? Why can no one see that at that moment, Cell wasn't the worst monster on the field?" Gohan turned and leaned back, his back pressed against the statue, his eyes gazing unseeing over the deserted grounds. Blackness so dark that he could almost feel it pressed against him and Gohan gasped, trying to slow his heartbeat.

No one understood that he couldn't let go of the past, because the past hadn't let go of him. He could feel the darkness inside himself. What if he couldn't control it? In that moment of secondary transformation, Gohan had never been more terrified. He had faced Freiza and even Cell with less fear than he regarded himself. But the fear had faded, it had been swallowed up by an almost carnal desire to spill blood, to rip his opponent to shreds with his bare hands. In that moment, Gohan had despaired of ever finding himself again.

He had been lost. Lost to the decency of the innocent child that screamed as he looked out of the eyes of a monster, lost to the mother who had asked him that morning if he had remembered to brush his teeth, and lost forever to the father's whose blood had stained his hands.

He had been lost and never been found again. He'd tried at first, he really had. Goten's birth had been a welcome distraction and a chance for Gohan to try and start over. He had failed as a son, but maybe he could succeed as a brother. But then the baby had looked so much like Goku, innocence shining from his eyes, a smile always at the ready, that instead of feeling the forgiveness he'd craved, Gohan found himself repelled.

How could he be around such innocence without sullying it? His guilt covered him and he wore it like a second skin. When it became too tight, he'd reacted by striking out. Smaller defiances grew until once again he found himself alone on the field of battle. But this time, he didn't hear the comforting voice of his father assuring him that everything would be alright.

Closing his eyes, Gohan drew his knees up to his chest and rested his head against them. If he wasn't going to go home, where could he go? He wasn't strong enough to face life by himself.

He had known that the day he faced Cell. Power raged between them, blast after blast colliding, flattening the landscape, leaving Gohan blind to all but the insanity of a battle to save the world when the battle itself was going to end the world. He could feel it inside him, power enough to leave Earth nothing more than a few rocks tumbling towards the sun.

Cell was screaming now. "Your world is forfeit! Your lives are forfeit! I will destroy everything in this universe!"

The beast that had taken control of him laughed and he heard the sound come out of his mouth. Scorn, disbelief, numbness… Gohan didn't know which emotion was strongest. He was going to lose because winning meant that he would be the one to destroy his world. He could defeat Cell, he knew that, but at what cost? The monster was so strong that a Ki blast big enough to kill him would be big enough to blow the planet in half.

"KILL HIM!" Half his mind was screaming in blood lust for him to do it, to destroy Cell at whatever the cost, the world be damned. The other part of his mind was screaming as well, a wordless wail, that ended in a whisper, "Daddy…"

And there had been an answer, "Hey buddy… giving up? That's not the Gohan I know!"

His father's cheerful voice had sounded inside his head and for one moment, Gohan had felt his heart take flight. "Daddy? Where are you?" Gohan remembered looking around wildly, but he couldn't see his father anywhere.

"I'm in the after life, son, with King Kai. But you don't need me. Everything you need, you already have inside you."

A single sob wrenched its way out of Gohan's throat. He longed to hear his father's voice again, but even the memory of it was dulled. Instead, he heard on the echoes of screams that would never fade. He would never be free of the memories of that day and he wasn't sure that he deserved to be. Sighing, he pulled his legs tighter against his chest. "Daddy…" he whispered into the nothingness.

But this time there was no answering voice in his head. There was only silence.


	11. Sorrow

Ch. 11: Sorrow

There were several fighters gathered in a loose semi-circle, watching as two fighters sparred each other. Or rather, they watched as one fighter effortlessly dodged the punches of the other. "You'd better mover faster, Voz!" One of the watchers cheered on the efforts of a slim green man as he fired fast punches towards a man in orange.

"You can do it, Voz!" The man also encouraged him, dancing backwards and blocking punches with his hands.

"Don't encourage me, Goku!" Voz snarled, dropping into a swivel kick. Goku jumped over it and gave Voz a grin which was quickly becoming one of Voz's least favorite expressions.

"If you say so," Goku grinned, and brought both of his hands together.

"NO!!!" Voz wasn't the only one who shouted a protest as Goku prepared for his finishing move.

"What?" Goku stopped, one hand going to the back of his head as he laughed at the onlookers.

Voz shook his head. "I'll beat you, eventually, Goku."

"You've got plenty of time," Goku shrugged. "I'm not going anywhere…"

Goku was walking away from the practice grounds when he felt a Ki presence that stopped him. Whoever it was, it was big. Turning, he scanned the yellowish sky until he saw a glint. "What is it?" Voz asked, coming to stand next to him.

"You mean who," Goku corrected, his expression tense.

"Fine," Voz retorted, staring at the speck. "WHO is it?"

"I'm not sure," Goku said, his voice tense. "But whoever it is, he's strong."

All of the fighters gathered around, watching as the speck grew larger until finally it was clearly visible. "It's Piccolo!" Goku exclaimed, his entire body relaxing.

"You know that guy?" Voz demanded, squinting at the Namek who was barreling towards them quickly.

"Yes! He's a friend."

Voz cast Goku a skeptical look. "He doesn't look very friendly."

Goku was grinning, his hand behind his head again. "Yeah, he has that effect on people!"

The Namekian warrior landed in front of them, his eyes fixed on Goku.

"Piccolo!" Goku started towards his friend, his arms stretched out in greeting.

Piccolo smiled, but it contained no humor. "I've wanted to do this for months," he said, one hand thrusting forward as he yelled his battle cry. Energy exploded from his palm.

"Wha..?!" Goku barely had time to say even that much before the energy beam hit him full in the face, sending him tumbling backwards. He rolled for several feet, the other fighters scattering out of the way with shouts of alarm.

Goku stopped rolling and flopped onto his back, stunned. After gasping for breath he sat up, char marks on his clothes and soot on his face. "What did you do that for?!"

Instead of answering, Piccolo drew back his arm and threw a second blast more powerful than the first at the Saiyan warrior. Goku blocked the energy blast with his crossed arms, but the force of it sent him rolling head over heels across the grounds and when he stopped this time, he was on his feet instantly.

"Are you crazy? Or just evil again?" He demanded his expression wary.

"Neither," Piccolo sighed. "And I'm also short on time, so as much as I'd like to continue this, I can't."

"What are you talking about?" Goku demanded, his voice confused, but he lowered his guard now that Piccolo didn't seem inclined to blast him again.

"I'm talking about Gohan." Piccolo strode forward angrily, his white cape billowing behind him. "Your son!!!" For a moment he stopped, then he shrugged. "What the hell…" With that enigmatic sentence he sent one more blast at Goku, but this time the Saiyan was prepared. He knocked it aside, the energy plowing into several of the onlookers who were gathered anxiously on the edge of the field. They shouted in alarm and dodged out of the way the best they could, leaving the stream of energy to level a small hill in the distance.

"What about my son?" The look of confusion was gone. Goku's face was determined, focused, and hard.

"You made a real mess of this one." Piccolo shook his head, arms crossed over his chest. "And I don't have long to explain it to you. Come with me." He turned and began flying back in the direction he had come. Wordlessly, Goku joined him. He stayed silent as Piccolo spoke, telling him about the months of degenerative behavior and the increasing helplessness and desperation of those who had to watch as Gohan systematically began to self-destruct.

"I don't understand," Goku finally spoke, as they neared Yemma's office. "Gohan didn't seem this upset at the time."

Piccolo gave him a disgusted look. "At the time, he was a little preoccupied. We'd just asked him to save the world, after all. We'd asked an eleven year old boy to save the world. YOU asked an eleven year old boy to save the world, your own son." He fell silent and Goku didn't speak for a long moment. "I'll never forgive you for that, Goku." Piccolo finally concluded. "And Gohan can't fogive himself for your death - your senseless needless death. He's already saved the world, why should he have to finish growing up now without a father? Why should he have to be father to Goten?"

"Goten?" Goku interrupted for the first time, his voice sharp.

"Yes, Goten. You have another son. Not that I expect you to care more about him than you do Gohan."

"Just a minute, Piccolo." Goku snapped backed angrily. "I love Gohan more than anything! He knows that!"

"Are you sure about that, Goku?" The Namek cast a sideways glare at his one-time enemy, his one-time friend. "Right now, he's convinced himself that you didn't accept the chance to be resurrected because you were too disappointed in him."

"What?!" Goku was so astounded that he stopped, forcing Piccolo to stop as well or leave him behind. "That's ridiculous! I told Gohan exactly how much I love him and how proud of him I was and still am!"

Piccolo snorted. "He must have forgotten, with all the funeral arrangements and all." Piccolo started flying again, leaving Goku no choice but to follow him or be left behind. The Saiyan's mind was clouded with doubt and regret. He could not imagine his happy determined child as angry and depressed as Piccolo described him, but he also knew that Piccolo would never lie to him about Gohan.

He flew faster, easily keeping up with Piccolo as the two of them flew towards the city in the distance that held the gateway from all the worlds to the after life. Piccolo ignored his demands to know what was happening, leaving Goku time to get lost in his memories.

Death had been surprisingly painful. He hadn't thought he'd really feel much of anything, but he had… for a split second anyway. One minute he was standing on King Kai's small planet, with Cell expanding beside him at a frightening rate. Then he'd found himself disoriented in a waiting room filled with souls on their way to judgment. Looking around wildly, Goku didn't see Cell… but he wasn't sure what that meant. He'd felt Cell explode… where was he if he wasn't here?

A few minutes later he had his answer. The door across the room slammed open and King Kai, sporting a halo and a scowl, ran in. The short god had propelled himself through the crowd like a boat on water, sending the waiting souls flying out of his way as he rushed towards Goku. "Goku!!! Hurry up! There's no time! You've got to hurry!"

"What's going on?" Goku demanded, still feeling a bit disoriented. "Where's Cell?"

"That's what I'm trying to tell you!" King Kai had answered, sounding frantic. "He's not dead. He's on earth… You blew up my planet and killed us all for nothing, you idiot!!"

"What?"

"He's fighting with Gohan, but it's not going well."

Goku felt ill for a second, then he shook himself. "Gohan can handle this. He's strong enough."

"Yeah?" King Kai demanded. "Did you bet your life on that? 'Cause you see how that turned out!"

"That's not fair!" Goku protested, but King Kai rounded on him, stopping their frantic dash in a field.

"Don't talk to me about fair! You blew up my home and killed me… now you make sure your son wins this battle!" He'd turned and Goku realized what he'd intended. Putting his hand on the short Kai's shoulder, he cast out his thoughts, following the god's lead, and then found himself firmly in Gohan's head.

"I can't win… I can't do this… We're all going to die… Just like dad… Daddy…"

For a second, Goku recoiled. The fear and grief and anger and hatred warring inside his little boy's heart had shocked him into silence.

"GOKU!!!" King Kai's voice had merged with a wordless wail of rage from Gohan to snap Goku out of his trance.

"Hey buddy… giving up? That's not the Gohan I know!"

"Dad? DAD?! Daddy!!! Where are you?"

"I'm here in the after life with King Kai."

"Daddy!"

"I'm fine, Gohan." Goku lied, pushing all thoughts of his own death out of his mind. "You need to concentrate."

"I can't beat him, dad. He's too strong!" Gohan's voice sounded desperate. Closing his eyes, Goku could see the battle taking place. It wasn't clear, the images were blurred, but he could see Gohan's arm and he staggered, almost losing his grip on King Kai's shoulder, and his tenuous contact with his son. Forcing himself to take a deep breath, Goku shook off the sick feeling that speared him at the sight of his son's mangled arm.

"You can beat him, Gohan. You're stronger than he is."

"I can't!"

"You can! Listen to me, son. You're strong enough. You can unlock the power in you…"

"I don't know how!" Gohan wailed, his body being shoved backwards by another blast from Cell. Goku could hear an echo of the monster's laugh through Gohan's thoughts and it stiffened his resolve.

"Fight him, Gohan! Fight him! Don't give up!"

"Dad…"

"You have to fight, Gohan! Fight for what you believe in! Fight for you mom! Fight for the good people on earth who don't deserve to die! Fight! Fight!! FIGHT!!!"

"Daddy… I'm so sorry…" The whispered thought struck Goku more painfully than his death had. Winded, he forced himself to hold onto King Kai's shoulder.

"It's not your fault, buddy. This isn't your fault."

"If I'd listened to you sooner…" A single sob made its way across the mental connection and it squeezed Goku's heart.

"Things happen for a reason, Gohan. Now you've got to concentrate. Focus on Cell. Don't let him get away with what he intends. Fight him."

"I'll try…"

"Good boy." Goku whispered out loud. "That's my brave Gohan. I'm with you, even if you can't see me. I'm here. Can't you feel me? Standing right behind you? You can do this!"

"KAAAAAAAA…." Gohan hadn't answered him, instead pulling his hand back in the first step of his final attack.

Goku nodded, willing his son his strength, even as he and King Kai heard Cell's scream of rage. "FOOL!!! I'll kill you all! This is over!!!"

"MEEEEEEEEEEEEE….." Gohan gathered his power slowly, bringing it into him, centering it as he had been taught. Even from the distance, Goku marveled at how strong Gohan had become. But he could feel it; a tiny shred of rage, a shred of hatred lingered in Gohan's soul, eating at him. Carefully, Goku covered that shred, pushing it aside until Gohan could deal with it.

"HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA…."

"You can do it, Gohan. Focus!!"

"MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE…."

"DIE!!! DIE!!! You will all DIEEEE!" Cell's scream, demonic in its fervor, sent a chill through Goku, but he pushed it aside. He couldn't focus on anyone but Gohan, not if they were going to do this and win.

"HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!" The scream that burst from Gohan's throat was lost in the roar of the power that exploded from his one good hand. The blast collided with Cell's, and everything was static, except for the sound of Gohan's heart beat. It was fast and erratic, but strong and determined. Goku focused on it. Gohan had a good heart, a strong heart, and he wouldn't let them down.

Not this time.

Blinking back tears, Goku let out a shaky breath as he followed Piccolo. Gohan hadn't let him down. Had he let his son down so badly that he was lost, even though he'd saved everyone else?


End file.
